


How to Love a Carol Denning

by ElyzaAlexander



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Bisexual Character, Carol denning gives off major bisexual vibes, Carol is very soft, Coming Out, F/F, Frieda is actually a loyal friend in this one, I dont know anything about the 1980s, Lesbian Character, Pov from someone who falls in love with Carol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-22 14:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElyzaAlexander/pseuds/ElyzaAlexander
Summary: Nobody ever loved Carol Denning, until Devon Lewis came along.Young Carol x Female OC





	1. Good Impressions

Carol Denning did not like manual labour. 

The smell of sweat and dirt filled her nostrils as she pushed her arms to continue working despite the harsh conditions. The sun beat down on her skin, her body already reacting to the heated beams. She never liked being dirty either, but the cool soil on her hands and knees contrasted on her otherwise red and burnt skin. Now, she knew what all those thanksgiving turkeys felt like cooking in the oven for hours on end. 

Shit... They felt like absolute shit.

Taking a second to have a breather, despite the danger of getting her ass handed to her by the overseeing seeing officers, she set the end of her shovel into the ground and lifting herself into an upright position, her back popping like one of those glowsticks at a school dance.

Beside her, a tall fence stood tall proudly, and beyond that the prison she was chosen to do construction on fell boringly on the otherwise peaceful backdrop. Another scar on the horizon, just a blemish on the earth. 

Minimum security prison was much smaller than it's high security counterpart, and also was clearly newer. Newer windows, clean walls, uncracked bricks. Expansions had begun only a week or two before Carol was let into general population, and as soon as she was given her freedom, it was ripped away. 

They had run out of fucking prisoners downhill. Ran. Out. Of prisoners. So, of course, they hand-picked the newest inmates in max and transported them, ordering them to dig holes to help with the expansion. 

Welcome to prison, Carol, have a horrible time!

Without thinking of the consequences, she leaned her body weight against the handle of her shovel, wiping her hand against her sticky forehead. A snap sounded, and before she knew it, she was falling. 

Dirt flew into her mouth as her head hit the ground first, her shoulder and the rest following. Coughing, she spit out the musty soil but, she still felt and tasted it on her tongue. "Damn it..." 

Someone laughed above her. 

"Shut the fuck up!" She shouted, blood boiling anger seeping into her veins. Her rage always was quick and violent, a reminder of the untamed blood-hungry wolf that lived inside her heart.

A guard she didn't care to know the name of poked her side with his shoe. "What's your problem inmate? Get up and get back to work." 

Her jaw clenched even tighter when she heard more snickers above her, now feeling the weight of judging eyes as well. A hand grappled at the collar of her orange jumper and she was wrenched to her feet violently. "Did you hear me, inmate?" The officer said. "Get on your fucking feet and dig!" 

She shook her head. "I can't. My shovel broke." Her eyes gravitated to the snapped shovel, her anger now directed at the inanimate object. Stupid, useless thing.

The guard huffed and looked up to an officer a few feet away overlooking the ordeal. "Can you take her to the shed, I've got other shit to do." 

The female guard rolled her eyes. Carol recognized her as Officer Jackson. "Ya, sure. I need a ciggerate anyway." 

The dust from her jumper flew off of her as she lifted herself out of her shallow hole, her shoulder and hip still aching from her tumble. Jackson grabbed her arm as soon as she hit the top, helping her to scale the final step.

"Be careful, Denning... Don't want to fall again." A girl beside her whispered into her ear, a move that ripped any of her self-control out of her chest. 

A hand grappled at her bicep as she threw her body at the woman. "Ugly bitch!" 

The altercation ended quickly because of the guard already latched to her arm but, the high-tempered woman knew she would have beaten the junkies ass, given the chance. 

Carol walked with, more like dragged by, Jackson toward a shed far from the holes. She practically threw her into the already open building, with a push and a growl. "Get a shovel, stay here until I come and get you." she said, before pulling a stick out of her pocket and walking a few steps away, lighting it on the way.

Damn, what she would do for a cig right then. Every time she bought a pack from commissary, another inmate would manage to steal it. She supposed torturing the cookies was part of the initiation into prison. 

A large bucket of shovels sat across the room against the wall, dirt and grass still stuck to the heads. Around the bucket, nothing but wood and other gardening tools. Jackson clearly wasn't the smartest, leaving a convict in a room full of sharp objects... 

Her hand wrapped around the wooden handle, the blisters on her hands burning uncomfortably. 

"You come here often?"

She jumped, spinning around and waving the shovel wildly. What the actual fuck? 

A woman leaned against a window casually, her light brown jumper pulled up to the knees and folded up to the elbows. The shovel Carol whipped toward her caused her to trip backwards and duck, blue eyes widened comically.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Carol asked, heart beating quick, words frantic.

The inmate's eyebrow raised. "What do you mean, who am I? You're in my shed!" She said, her husky voice tinted with alarm and confusion.

Carol dropped the shovel slowly, her weapon forgotten with the realization that the blonde didn't seem like much of a threat. Throughout the week, most veteran inmates have been taking their turns targeting her, and she had been doing whatever she could to defend herself from the onslaughts. Soon enough, they would know not to fuck with her. 

The shovel clanked against the ground as she let herself take a deep breath. "When did you even come in?" 

"I was just standing here, and you decided to waltz in and threaten me with that shovel or yours," a nod to the tool, then a shrug complimented with a smirk. "Not the worst I've dealt with in the last bit, but definitely the most startling." 

At these words, and the confident smile on the blonde's round face, Carol's shoulders loosen as she drops her snarl. "I broke my shovel... had to get a new one." What a dumb response. Couldn't she have come up with something more original? 

"Ah, I see... Now," The inmate began pulling something out of her pocket, "I'm gonna go back to what I was doing before. Care to join?" 

"Is that a fucking joint?"

A nod. "You gonna snitch on me, Denning?" 

"How do you-" 

"I watch the news, sweetheart. Your mugshot is hard to forget." Her smile was flirty, a fact that the brunette chose to ignore.

The clicking of a lighter filled up the silence that followed their conversation. 

The blonde pulled back her messy, mane-like hair to give her room, and lifted the joint to thin pink lips. Then, with inviting eyes, held it out for her to take. 

They only had a few puffs each before noticing the guard beginning to walk back towards the door through the window, having seconds to blow out the smoke and cough up what they could.

The next 2 hours of manual labour weren't that bad, and Carol, for the first time in a long time, had felt human. She forgot what the warm buzz in her chest felt like months after the incident, until...

[ 1 year later ] 

"I've been hearing about new cookies comin' in, even some that are from minimum" Frieda started conversation at the otherwise silent table. 

"Oh ya?" She smirked, looking back to her friend. "Maybe one of them has some connections down the hill that I could use."

Next thing she knew, a thick head of wild blonde hair waltzed into C block, changing the course of Carol's life forever. 

-

Didn't spellcheck and revise, sorry.

Comment, it gives me inspiration to post!


	2. Polished Sh!t

"You think she's into women?"

"Which one, the one with the glasses or the one with the beak?"

"Obviously the one with the glasses, dumbass."

"How the fuck am I supposed to know which child killer you want to fuck?"

"I don't want to fuck her! I just... Want to know if she's into women. It's a theory I have." 

"That all phycopath murderers are hot lady lovers? I always knew you had a villian kink." 

I shrugged. "Something like that."

-

My last conversation in minimum replayed in my mind over and over again, an endless loop of my last few moments of happiness. My conversations with Charmaine were always quick-witted and light, albeit insightful. She was the bull-dyke of Litchfield, always carrying a younger woman under her arm, her short stringy hair greased back. 

She was my best friend. I didn't know when I would see her again.

It was dark in my cell now, long past lockdown. My bunk-mate snored lightly below me, a reminder that I wasn't alone. The sheets barely covering my shoulders were scratchy and uncomfortable and my pillow felt like a jagged rock... Prison life, always so refreshing.

I didn't know how long I layed there before the lights turned on and I was forced out of my cell, hair still knotted and haloed over my scalp, I would be learning how Max worked today, a gaurd inquired with a huff and an uncaring wave during count. 

All 15 I stood with were new, our orange jumpsuits contrasting against the grey walls noticeably. It was as if they wanted us to become easy targets. A breath of an amused chuckle left my throat at the thought... My aunt always did say the government wanted to break it's citizen's, it didn't surprise me that they tried to ruin the newbies spirits the first few days here.

"Do you think this is a joke, Lewis?" A female guard's grating voice brought me out of my thoughts. Her nose was large and pointy, with lips tight and thin. While she spoke, the wrinkles above her top lip danced, and her brow furrowed with an unpleasent crease.

I shook my head. "No, ma'am." 

A nod, before our 'tour' continued on, the hiccup forgotten. It must have been no later than 4am, as we walked by the blocks to only see shut cells and empty tables. 

Speaking of which...

"At 5am, your first rotation will begin! Each of you will be given a schedule, that you will follow strictly. If you are found straying from this schedule, there will be consequences. Outside of these set instructions, you will be allotted recreation time. This includes-"

She pulled a ring of keys from her belt, the jangling attracting my eyes to the movement. A clicking sound echoed through the hallway as one was turned into the door behind her, followed by a woosh of air. 

I could only see the shadow of darkness through the archway but, even the freedom of catching sight of green grass and the rising of an orange sun was enough for me to feel refreshed. 3 months solitary did that someone.

"Yard time. Kickball tournaments happen year round. You will play for your block, and yes... Everyone must participate." The C.O said. She spoke with a giddy tone, finishing off with a grin forming in the corner of her mouth. She seemed awfully excited.

Someone sighed beside me. "I fucking hate exercise..." She mumbled.

I shrugged. "It's better than being locked up all day, in Minimum we were outside most of the time." 

As the guard, I now knew to be Swanson, stepped past us and began her way back the way we came, the woman who had spoken to me nudged my shoulder. "What's it like in Minimum?" 

I looked down at her, about an inch above her head. Her deep brown eyes were curious, her chin scrunched in what I presume was supposed to be cute. The steps she took were awkward and unbalanced, like a baby deer just learning to walk. It was awkward, but I kept up with her.

"Kind of like it is in here, except you have more freedom. Its like," I clicked my tongue in thought. "A polished pile of shit after you spray Febreeze. Aint too bad, aint too good." I said.

The woman chuckled. "Good analogy... I'm Jennifer, by the way." 

I clasped her outstretched hand firmly, noticing the softness of her skin. It contrasted with the rough calluses of my own and the dry cracks in my knuckles. "Devon." I responded.

"Devon Lewis, huh. Interesting, but I like it." Jennifer flashed her buck teeth, a trait that oddly suited her.

We finally came across our final destinations, standing right where we began, outside D block. Officer Swanson picked up a clipboard off a rolling cart filled with different coloured jumpsuits, looking through the pages lazily.

With a monotone voice, she offically ended our tour. It was fun while it lasted.

"Your temporary sleeping arrangements in B block have been changed. You will now be given a uniform that coordinates with your assigned cell block. After entering your block, you will be given a cell number where you will sleep and keep your items. If you have any questions about the tour, or would like to know more about cell blocks, please raise your hand."

I caught a raised arm in the corner of my eye. 

"Good! Now that nobody has any questions, I can go back to bed. Once I call out your name, come get your clothes. If you are assigned to C or B block, wait here and I will take you there."

Names began to be called. Most left into D block, their colour a light brown. 

"Morri!" Swanson looked up from her clipboard, a quarter way through the list of inmates.

Jennifer stepped forward, giving one last glance at me before giving a quick wave. "See you around."

I waved back, a little less enthusiastically. 

I eventually got my colour, a navy blue. It sucked that I wouldn't be placed with my first friend but, I didn't see why I couldn't hang out with her during recreation. She seemed nice and honest, although new to the prison scene. I briefly wondered what she had done to get herself locked in Litchfield.

Entering C block felt like cracking open a cold can of Coca Cola, if the Coca Cola was actually mining oil and vomit. I felt like all eyes were on me and the 3 other 'cookies' beside me, like we were the newest barbie at the store that the town's worst kids couldn't wait to rip apart and torture. It was uncomfortable, I wouldn't lie, but the others seemed a little more displaced.

I turned briefly to look at one of them, a girl that resembled more like a baby Chihuahua than a convict. She wouldn't last very long. She was young, no older than 19 or 20, so I decided to lean my head closer to hers and whisper a piece of advice.

"Keep your head down and don't cause any trouble. Also," I nodded toward a woman who was already eyeing the girl like a piece of fresh meat. "Stand your ground... Don't let yourself become a punching bag."

"H-h-how?" She asked.

"Assert yourself quickly. Show them you have control over your own self."

I took my own advice later that day, it didn't go too well.

-  
How do you guys like Devon? I just wanted to take this chapter to dedicate it to her character's personality. Just a little peak into her world... 

Comment, it gives me inspiration to post!


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